Beautiful Eyes
by C. Jane Wright
Summary: A rule highly valued by the Greeks is to never insult the gods. Cynthia feels the consequences of an angry and jealous Aphrodite. OC
1. Chapter 1

"You are more beautiful than Aphrodite herself!" he exclaimed, a smile fixed on his tanned face. The young man was dark-aired and bright eyed. He had ambitious goals for the future, including obtaining the most beautiful woman in the town for wife. His political career was taking off. He was fairly handsome and well-liked by most people. He had his whole life set out in front of him.

"Many thanks, suitor. If you continue with your flattery, I might just marry you," she replied with the bat of her eyes. She was a daughter of a common farmer but her beauty was well known throughout the town.

"That is my intention," he said in a wooing manner. He leaned closer.

What they didn't know was that far above them, someone was watching the scene. Her lips thinned in displeasure. Her auburn eyes darkened.

"How dare they boast of that mortal's beauty as greater than my own? I did not make her that great a beauty," Aphrodite growled.

Eros appeared before his mother. "What are you frowning for?"

She gestured to the mortals. "They boast of that woman's beauty far too greatly."

He quickly said, "Mother, whatever designs for revenge you have, please stop. I quite literally just hit them with my arrows. Don't make my labor a waste. Besides, they are only mortal. No one can truly compare to you." Eros really hated how spoiled his mother was. She was quick to anger when it comes to her vanity.

"Yes, that is quite true," she nodded in agreement, currently pacified.

But she never forgave or forgot that mortal with the long dark curls and clear, pretty complexion. For many seasons, the goddess tried to focus on not only her pleasures but also her own work: helping maidens that beg for love find it, keeping men drooling for said maidens, and blessing those who beg for it.

When a particular woman with long dark curls and a clear, pretty complexion walked into her temple, Aphrodite simply smirked. The woman seemed different from when she last saw her. Her stride was strong and graceful as she reached the altar.

She got on her knees and lifted something up wrapped in a blanket. "Goddess of beauty and love, bless my daughter with these gifts! I beg you for your mercy!" her voice croaked and she was in tears.

The goddess stared at the baby for a long time, debating. The woman seemed sincere and desperate but was Aphrodite able to overlook the slight from long ago? Something this woman had obviously forgotten or thought unimportant? She stared and stared and thought for so long, her head hurt and finally she decided. Her solid and pure voice whispered in the mortal's ears, "No."

The mortal gasped and clutched the baby to her chest as fear took hold of her heart. She turned and ran out of the temple, her cloak flowing around her.


	2. Chapter 2

My mother always watched me anxiously. It's as if she's waiting and waiting for me to explode or something of the like. She would laugh nervously if I ask her what she's thinking and it's been this way for as long as I can remember.

Mother gave another nervous laugh as she finished braiding my hair. "Lovely," she'd say with a forced smile.

I would always say, "There's no point" but she would simply shake her head in disagreement.

We don't have mirrors in my house.

Every day, I would follow the same, tired routine. Mother would leave early in the morning to get to her job as a seamstress and I would clean and cook until it was time to leave. My seamstress training started a bit after sunrise. Seeing it was time to go, I put on my cloak and pulled the hood over my head.

I stalked through the just waking streets with my head down and my eyes on the ground. When I was a child, I would make it a game to glance up at people before they looked at me. But I stopped the game one day when I saw many happy families and smiling fathers. I still remember father. He used to stare with blank eyes, void of emotions.

I turned a sharp corner and bumped into someone. Automatically, I looked up at the average-looking young man.

He let out a grunt. "My apolog-" he stopped once he saw me.

My eyes locked with his, I said in a calm tone, "Move aside please."

He stepped aside as if in a trance and I kept walking.

My chest hurt but I continued on my path to the training school. When I opened the door, the elderly woman looked up. She was into her upper seventies and had rightfully given up making her own clothing in order to teach the younger girls. It was easier for her this way.

"Hello child," she said with a soft smile.

I pulled the hood off. "Hello Thais."

Thais is my favorite woman in the world. She never looks at me with anything but kindness. "Come child, class will begin soon."

She remained in the front of the room as I went and took my seat in front of spinning wheel.

I didn't wait long until the other pupils came in. The girls sneered at me and took their places far from mine. They spoke in quiet, rapid tones and occasionally shot me withering looks.

Thais slowly made her way to sit at her spinning wheel. "We will learn how to make togas today. Often, officials of top rank will have their own personal seamstresses and if you prove talented enough, perhaps you can achieve such a respectable position."

One girl whispered to another, "But before they hire you, they must first _see_ you."

The slight hurt but I couldn't do anything as the practice began. As usual, we mimicked her swift movements and followed her instructions. I focused so much, I felt lost to anything but what was being spun. It was hard work and it took me a long time but when I pulled out the finished product, I couldn't help but smile. It was perfect.

Thais quietly congratulated me in a light tone. I looked out the window at the high sun. The other girls weren't quite finished but I was allowed to leave.

I once more, pulled on my cloak and roamed the streets. I reached the theater house just on time. The crowd was thick and excited in their seats before the stage. The man at the door asked for two coins in a bored tone. As I placed them in his hand, he turned to me and upon seeing me, quickly withdrew his hand.

"A real witch," he murmured in fright to another man.

I smiled wryly at my feet. Whenever I hear such a comment I think, if only it were true.

I stayed in the midst of the crowd. Two men wearing masks strolled onto the stage. I held my hood up to cover my face as my attention turned towards the men.

They spun the story well. It was (thankfully) a comedy. I laughed so hard, my sides started to hurt. For a few short hours, I was able to forget who I was.

At home, mother had lay down onto her bed and started to talk incessantly about her day. Her eyes were closed because the strain she puts on them throughout the day leaves her with blurry vision.

"Do you want more vegetables?" I asked.

"No, thank you," she answered. "I should sleep now though. I'm tired."

"Goodnight mother," I said.

For a moment, she opened her eyes and stared at me seriously. I looked back. Finally she closed her eyes and said, "Goodnight Cynthia."

For a long time, I waited until I heard her breathing steady. I silently got up from my bed and left.

The river sparkled under the moonlight, the air was cool, and the noise was minimal. As I disrobed, I slowly reached the riverbank. The reflection in the dark, blue water made my chest hurt.

The braids my mother had tried to make in the morning have long since tangled into its original wild and black form. The many dark blotches and wart above my thin lips mocked the surround pale skin. My nose: large, hooked, and crooked. My face is full of sharp angles. Despite my sparse eating habits, I still manage to be grossly stouter than the other girls.

I am ugly.

How I long to be average, to be plain. I wouldn't complain if I could only be less hideous. There is no way to be completely isolated either. If only I had an ounce of aggression I could be a huntress like Artemis and remain in the forest. If I had an ounce of wisdom I could be a scholar under Athena and remain with books. But I have nothing. I am only soft and ruined. I remember the story of my mother's visit to Aphrodite's temple. I had wanted to go to Aphrodite and beg to be normal but my mother feared for the worst. If I had been hated by any other god, I would be dead but Aphrodite's cruelty inflicted much worse: she broke my soul.

My breathing was hard and tears burned as I took note of my final feature: a pair of freakishly beautiful eyes.

Mother would sometimes try to remind me what big beautiful sky blue eyes I had. Thais once said she'd never seen a more beautiful mint green…

My eyes are dark brown like my mother's.

They are really a wonder. It seems everyone sees their own idea of great beauty in them. But even with these eyes, people still recoil. Even with these eyes, I am still hated.

I strike the water with a shattered cry. Before I could start sobbing in full earnest, I slip into the cold, dark water. Underneath the water, I felt safe from all the eyes. Once my lungs started to hurt, I resurfaced and started frantically scrubbing. Maybe I can scrub off my life. Every last piece of horror.


	3. Chapter 3

It's the same routine over again. As Mother braided my hair, I thought of everything she'd given up for me: a husband, parents, friends. Everyone shunned her once they caught sight of her daughter. I don't remember meeting my grandparents but it traumatized my mother. One of her childhood friends had said, "How could _that_ come from you?"

The day my father left, I, a mere child, was sitting outside the window, listening in to their conversation. His last words to her were, "How could you expect me to claim it as my child? She resembles neither me nor you. You must have had an affair with a monster."

Despite my mother's tearful protest, he left.

Before she left, I held her hand and gave her an unusually loving kiss on her cheek. She smiled in a placating manner and walked out without a word.

This time at the training school, a few of the girls were earlier than normal. Once more, they abused me with scornful looks and malicious whispers as I went to take my seat. I paused once I was beside them.

Staring directly into one particularly mean girl's eyes, I quietly said, "The ugliness you see in me is actually your own. You secretly know this and try not to acknowledge it but I know because I can see what you try to hide. I know you hate your position in life and despite your best efforts, all the rich men you throw yourself at never acknowledge you in public."

She started to cry. The others fearfully backed away and I heard the word "witch" being used a few times. It's not magic to take note of the fine things on a person. She wore a variety of mildly expensive jewelry and she never wore the same items. If she's in this school, she has almost no money of her own so I'm absolutely sure if she had a betrothed giving her these gifts she wouldn't be quiet about it. She most likely sells the gifts she receives. If she were a mistress, she would have been gifted with more precious stones.

The rest of today's lesson held silence from the normally chit-chatty girls.

I left school unsettled. There was no play at the theater today and I couldn't think of anywhere else to go. The only thing I knew was that I didn't want to go home yet.

I walked for a long time without knowing where I was going. I can just see one foot moving in front of the other.

So maybe I just lied to myself. I know exactly where I'm going.

The grandiose, sparkling temple was surprisingly empty for what should have been a popular goddess. Then again, I've never been here before, so maybe she isn't as popular as people make her out to be.

Honestly, I can't live like this anymore. Even if I incite further anger from her and she kills me, it doesn't matter anymore.

Awkwardly, I kneeled in front of the altar and removed my hood.

"Aphrodite…" I whispered.

When I received no answer, I felt ridiculous. My hands clutched on my knees. All the resentment I felt over the years made me continue in a louder voice, "Aphrodite, I know what you did to me sixteen years ago. Do you find great joy in my misery? Why would you do it?"

I heard a jingling laughter and looked up. The most beautiful woman I've ever seen was sitting on the altar. She wore a fine, long dress that hugged every graceful curve, her hair was flame red, her smile cruel, and her auburn eyes held mischief. She smoothly said in a striking voice, "I remember you. You would have turned out to be a beauty like your mother."

That sent pain throughout my body. To think that I would have looked like my mother… it's too awful to think of how I actually turned out.

"I was a baby. Why did I deserve your hatred?"

She leapt off the altar and crouched down in front of me. When she cupped my face, I flinched. In the same lovely voice, she answered, "Your mother was arrogant. She needed to be punished."

My lower lip started to tremble and I knew my eyes were watering. "But why would you make _my_ life so bad? Do you even realize the impact of your decision?"

"Oh, my dear," she cooed, "I know everything."

"I want you to reverse the damage. I want to be beautiful," I weakly demanded.

"I'll give you what you want."

I was taken aback. "You will?"

"Yes."

"Why?" I was understandably suspicious.

She tilted her head. "Did you believe I would help you without something in return? Gods do not simply give without a demanded sacrifice."

I shivered but asked regardless. "What do you want?"

She brought my face closer to hers and said, "Your eyes."

"My… eyes…" my hand instinctively reached up.

"It seems that I unintentionally gifted you when I stared for too long. I want them. Besides, what are they to you? They do not make up for the fact you are ugly, do they? You could be beautiful enough to attract a god. Do you really _need_ to see? It is more of an… unnecessary accessory."

I sullenly didn't reply.

She sweetly said as her hand ran over my wild hair, "I understand, my dear. You need time to make a decision. Leave, think, decide. But you must come back to give me an answer."

And she was gone.

I almost wondered if I had imagined the whole thing, but I knew better. I have the chance to be beautiful.

Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty, wanted my eyes.


	4. Chapter 4

I felt like I was in a daze, unaware of my surroundings. Life was a blur and I couldn't focus to save my life. Mother gently asked if anything happened and I mumbled an excuse. Thais asked why I was completely ruining the fabrics and I simply looked away. I asked myself what to do over and over again. It was like an obsession. When I wake up, I think: will I miss seeing the sun? And yet, when I walk around the public square, I think: will I miss seeing my feet?

I paused; my eyes still glued to my feet.

Do I want to do this every day for the rest of my life? Why should I hide? Can they simply not mind me? I'm still human, aren't I?

Holding my breath, I looked up. I pulled my hood off and continued walking to the training school. Hope jumps through my heart. It's going well; no one is looking at me! Maybe I am not seen as just a freak of nature…

Rowdy laughter from nearby took that hope and pummeled it into the ground.

"Look, men, a monster to slay!" a rough voiced boy announced to his group of friends.

One warned the original boy, "She might be a witch, Alexander."

He simply laughed it off. "She is but a girl, though a monstrous one at that. See she blushes like one."

Anger and hatred filled my heart. If ever I wished for magic powers, it would be now so I can melt him into the ground. I stepped toward them and some watched with wary expressions.

I raised my hands as I've seen the witches in the plays do it. Using a calm and powerful tone I said, "Beware your ruthless heart; I see darkness and a tragic end to your life."

There was a collection of gasps and the boy furiously said, "Remove your wicked curse at once!"

I did my best impression of a witch's crackle and replied, "Only you have the power to do that. _If_ you can do it on time and time runs short, Alexander."

Before he could say anything, I quickly ran in the opposite direction. I tried to tell myself that I felt good after all that. That his words didn't hurt and that my revenge was sweet. But I can't lie to myself about such delicate matters. And a woman's heart is the most delicate matter. I fell to my knees and hid my face behind my hands.

"Are you of health, maiden?" a friendly voice said.

I looked up to kind brown eyes and a man's open hand. He helped lift me off the ground and I numbly shook my head yes. The man was smiling sympathetically.

"I saw what you did to that boy. He deserved whatever curse you put on him. My name is Ajax and I beg you, great sorceress, I need your most urgent of help. There is a woman I love who loves another so I require a love potion. I will pay any price. I have gold, if you desire that."

He was handsome in his own right and seemed honest and wonderfully hopeful. I felt guilty for unintentionally deceiving him. Yet when I opened my mouth to disillusion him, I said instead, "Any price?"

"Anything your heart desires," and his eyes assured endearingly that he meant it.

I licked my suddenly dry lips. I've never been in a position of command before. What did I want? Riches? Beauty? I lacked both and as such desired both (though one much more than the other). In my heart of hearts, what was it that I truly wanted?

I fixed my eyes onto his. "I want you to love me," came out the quiet, shy words.

A mix of surprise and horror flashed across his features. It felt like a sword to my heart and at that moment, I wanted nothing more than a sword to literally run me through.

I took in a steadying breath and quickly said, "Walk on; I have no magic. It is only trickery that I played. I do believe that you ought not to waste your time. Find another to be your bride…" I pulled my hood on and without looking at him, I said, "Farewell, Ajax."

Tears burned my eyes as I ran. I burst into Aphrodite's temple crying.

"I have made my decision. I made it long ago, shortly after you placed your curse and I can't believe it took such time to realize. Aphrodite, make me beautiful," I cried out, all the way to the altar. "I just want to be beautiful."

"There, there, my dear," she shushed as she cupped my face. "Men cannot see much beyond their eyes, I know. I will make it better."

The last thing I saw was the goddess of love and beauty leaning in, flaming tresses framing her face, pouting full red lips, and mischief in her auburn eyes.

I felt her lips touch mine softly and then everything ripped away. I wanted to cry at the dreadful pain but I couldn't make any more tears so instead I screamed.

All I heard was, "They are mine! Now no one can actually have eyes more beautiful than mine! Especially not a mere mortal!"

I heard nothing else, so I assumed she was gone. With trembling hands, I touched my face. My lips, nose, and skin felt different. They quickly traced down my body and it felt different too. I started to laugh hysterically.

"Am I- beautiful?" I grinned widely and more confidently repeated, "Am I beautiful?"

Stumbling outside, I ran into someone. As if it's the most natural thing to say, I asked, "Am I beautiful?"

The grumbling man's voice said, "Is this a trick? Yes, you are."

I think I must have opened my eyelids because he gasped and said, "Gods, what happened to your eyes?"

I stumbled away from him and hit someone else, "Am I beautiful?"

"Am I beautiful?"

"Am I beautiful?"

"Am I beautiful?"

All that existed were these words. Nothing else mattered. I needed to know and so I asked and asked and asked. I kept walking in one direction and I was stumbling on various things I couldn't identify but I needed to find someone else to ask.

"Any soul, please tell me I am beautiful!" I called out into the darkness of my own world.

Desperation gripped me. I needed and needed and needed someone to tell me. My hands reached wildly around me to find someone, anyone but they only grasped air. Air and only air was suddenly all around me. I recognized that I must have been falling from a great height. I must have blindly walked off a cliff.

My last thought was _how can anyone know who I am, if I am beautiful_?

At that point, I felt the pain of all the bones in my body simultaneously crushing and piercing my insides for a split second that lasted for eternity.

My name is Cynthia and death was not my worst experience.


	5. Author's Note

Author's Note:

This is a pretty morbid story, I must admit. Obviously, if this were in the modern world, a girl could easily fix the problems mentioned with various diets, skin medicines, plastic surgery, etc. but there's also the importance of self-confidence. It's essential to life. If a girl only depends on others' views, it can only lead to her own downfall. She must decide on her own vision of beauty and work to attain it because anything is attainable with some effort.

Another important thing to remember is that there really is more than just beauty. Cynthia gave up her eyes. A modern girl may give up food, personality, intelligence- all to fit into someone else's vision of beauty. BIG NO-NO.

That being said, I am not an ugly girl LOL (I'd hate to brag but… =] ). Yes, I found inspiration from my own insecurities but whoever says they've never been insecure is a liar. Cynthia is my living, breathing insecurity.

And this story seriously haunted me in my normal life. Like I couldn't even talk to a cute guy because I felt so awful about myself. Maybe I could have dragged the story out longer and added better details, but this needed to stop. I'm definitely not, nor could I continue to act like, Cynthia. Maybe now that she's dead in the story, I won't have to deal with her (doubtful, but I can try lol)

So thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, R&R.


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